just the way he wanted. Greed and egotism were two human aspects Lance Parker understood. He would never comprehend any other motive behind Shay’s choice.
“This is great.” Lance grinned and tapped on the window behind him. “I’m out of here. I told your bodyguard to drop me off. Have a lunch appointment. Do me a favor?”
“Hmm?” Shay didn’t look away from the screen. Caitlyn was talking to another woman. In a span of one moment, she smiled. His heart skipped a beat, and an answering smile budded on his lips, but he stopped. His body swayed closer to the screen. In that brief second, he witnessed a fragment of her beauty. He remembered her smile.
“Keep your secrets. Remember, the more mysterious you are, the better your fans love you,” Lance remarked, slapping him on his shoulder before the limousine stopped. The door opened and with a backward wave, the agent was gone.
Shay eased back into the seat.
Rhys lowered his feet and sat forward, gaze trained on the screen. “Is it her?”
“It’s her. I can feel her. She and I–we don’t have much time.”
“No, she does not.” When Rhys spoke, his voice trembled.
Hearing the words from him served to emphasize Shay’s need to help her. Rhys took a deep shuddering breath and turned a cold gaze on him. “For you, though, eternity is before you. In hell, I hope. Remember–bring her home no later than two weeks from today. You should, at this time, have had some luck in releasing her from the curse. Otherwise, she will be lost.” He waved his hand in a helpless gesture.
Shay didn’t respond. He had to find a way to help Caitlyn. She was doomed if he failed. He stared at the screen, concentrating. He knew where she was and now he could focus on capturing her attention.
The low hum from the limo’s engine helped alleviate some of his tension. Pressing the Pause button on the remote, he narrowed his eyes and stared past the dark frames into Caitlyn’s. He wished he could freeze her life as easily. Pity for her ignorance concerning her fate engulfed him. He switched off the player, faced the window next to him and tried not to think about the future.
Chapter 2
“Hey, Reiley. Kramer wants to see ya.” The male voice came from the opening to Caitlyn Reiley’s cubicle, reaching her over the cacophony of others speaking, phones ringing and keyboards clicking in Channel 52’s newsroom. She groaned and pivoted toward the opening. By the time she turned to question the unseen messenger, he had disappeared.
She exhaled slowly, faced her desk and set her purse down. Sharp pains radiated from her tired, cramped feet and sped to her brow. She rubbed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. With a glance at her wristwatch, she frowned. She had just stepped into the newsroom from reporting on a tiny-tots pageant seminar for most of the day. The seminar had taken longer than she’d originally planned. Now, when she should have been able to sit and go over her report for the seminar coverage, she was told to see Kramer.
The station’s business manager, Mike Kramer, didn’t like to wait. First, though, the makeup had to go. She reached inside her purse for her compact. Ever since she was old enough to wear cosmetics, she’d tried but failed to grow accustomed to the pasty feel of it on her face. Added to the fact her biological mother wore heavy cosmetics, Caitlyn refused to associate anything in her life now to her turbulent childhood. An image of her mother’s face loaded with thick foundation and sky blue eye-shadow appeared in Caitlyn’s mind. She shoved the picture aside, cringing at the remembered texture of the cracked lipstick and flaking mascara.
The dull ring of the telephone set off tingling explosions in every nerve ending connected to her skin. Frowning at the compact, she shoved her purse out of the way and jerked up the receiver. With a deep breath, she answered, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “Caitlyn Reiley. May I help you?”
“Catey? What’s up, girl?” Marcy’s chirpy greeting caused Caitlyn to sag.
“Oh, not much. Just about to face Kramer in his office,” she said with a sigh.
“Huh?”
“My boss wants to see me. We’re not a major TV station locally, and the management’s making cutbacks. I think I might be one of them.” Caitlyn sat down at her desk and twisted and untwisted the telephone cord.
“Is it that bad over there?”
“Yes. When they opened this station six months ago, they hired too many people. The administration let four people go last month. They weren’t reporters, but that doesn’t mean management isn’t going to start cutting us next. Why today? This rates as one of the worst days of the year for me.”
Marcy released a short laugh. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“Wanna bet? I just finished filming a piece on tiny-tots pageantry. I didn’t know there were so many little Miss America wannabes in this area. When I arrived back here, someone told me Kramer wanted to see me. He never sends for me.”
Dropping the cord, she pressed the compact latch and it opened with a snap. She glanced at her image in the small mirror and wrinkled her nose. Still the same. Nothing spectacular there. Dark hair held tight in a bun at the base of her neck, black-rimmed glasses framing dull green eyes, rouge-covered cheeks and matte lipstick. With her glasses, she didn’t need the added cover of eye shadow and liner.
“Calm down. You’re overreacting. They’re not gonna let you go.” Her friend’s voice took on the familiar big-sister tone she used on Caitlyn when she wanted to get her point across. “You worry too much. Get your butt up and go see the man. You told me the other day the polls chose your segments above all the other stations. He might have an achievement award for you, not a pink slip.”
“I doubt that,” Caitlyn muttered. Not wanting to pass her rising depression onto her friend any longer, she tried to sound cheery. She needed the makeup off before facing Kramer. The cakey stuff made her uncomfortable and vulnerable. A minute or two wouldn’t hurt. She hoped.
“So, what’s up with you?”
“I just went shopping and bought the cutest shoes. They’re wedges, red skinny straps, very sexy. You’ll simply die to have a pair…”
Half-listening, she allowed Marcy to rattle on so she would have time to remove the makeup. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, tugged open a desk drawer and removed a box of damp wipes. Makeup was a necessity in front of the camera. She didn’t mind making concessions like that if it meant moving forward with her career. Since she wasn’t scheduled to film again today, a few swipes with the damp cloth and the face paint disappeared. Satisfied after another quick pass over her cheeks, she closed the compact and threw the cloth away.
“–Shay Evers–”
At the mention of the famous illusionist’s name, Caitlyn grabbed the phone in her hand and straightened. “Wait, what did you say?”
“The performance. Tonight. Front row seats. Backstage passes. Erica bugged out, going south to meet Paco.” Marcy stopped and groaned. “Let’s not go there. You’re second on my list of stand-ins. You simply have to go with me. So, be ready by six, okay? You’re gonna love Shay. He’s fabulous to look at and after tonight, I hope he’ll be all mine.”
Heart racing, Caitlyn struggled to control quickening breaths. This physical reaction had become normal for her during the last four years at the very mention of the illusionist’s name. From the moment she had turned on her television that warm summer night four years ago and caught one of his performances, she had developed a strange dislike for the handsome Welshman.
Her heartbeat would speed up, sharp twinges would shoot through her middle and heat often soared through her veins to the degree she had to sit down and fan her face. She refused to call what she experienced an infatuation, and she didn’t believe in love at first sight. She didn’t believe in that overrated emotion at all. All her life, she had seen the results of that sappy feeling.